


Until the End of Time

by eoen



Series: Twos Company [20]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Foursome - F/M/M/M, Two's Company, mild bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-27
Updated: 2012-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-30 05:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eoen/pseuds/eoen





	Until the End of Time

##  ****

Until the End of Time

The week had been fairly busy. Rogue's return seemed to flip some unseen switch that fueled a series of mutant bashings in Colorado and a "credible threat" from the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. Thus, Scott wasn't surprised that Gambit was ignoring the briefing. Annoyed, yes. Surprised, no. Iceman watched the flush creeping up Scott's throat as he continued to outline the week's schedule. Storm considered waking her brother with a touch, but when Scott's gaze pinned her, she dropped the idea. Beast looked worriedly at Gambit. The Cajun was too still for his liking. Cyclops' briefing ran down. "Dismissed." 

Hank carefully took Gambit's wrist in his large fingers. Remy blinked in his direction -- eyes soft and drowsy behind his shades. "I thought I warned you that you shouldn't push yourself so much." 

"Remy don' normally listen t' docs, Henri. Been given too much bad advice me. Don' reckon I've been pushin' anyway." 

"Six weeks ago, I didn't think you would live to see today. Four weeks ago, you were still in rehab every day for an unmemorable hour before going to spar with Logan. I will be the judge of your health. I am you physician." 

"Henri. . ." 

"Don't whine." 

Scott's irritation had faded with Hank's recitation of the facts. Gambit had been pushing on more than one level. And I fell right into the same patterns I always have before, he thought. 

"I want to give you a proper check. Come down to the lab." 

"Non!" Remy's voice was sharp. 

"Remy," Scott said, softly chiding. 

"What y' want t' do t' this po' t'ief?" 

"Blood pressure, temperature, CT scan." 

"I'll come with you," Scott offered. 

"I'd like that, cher." 

"It's decided. Come along, M. LeBeau." Hank gestured to the door so that the young man could proceed him." 

"After you, M. Bete." 

Scott settled his hand on the back of Remy's neck and guided him out of the room and toward the med-lab. 

**** 

Jean leaned back in the Professor's guest chair. 

"How is your training with Gambit going?" 

Jean sighed. "He's learned a few things, but beyond that, he refuses to train formally. I sneak it in here and there, but it's not the same as true practice." 

Xavier steepled his fingers. "Are you still sure of your analysis?" 

"He is definitely an empath, to the point of being affected by Scott's headaches." 

Charles raised a brow. "How so?" 

"He has this driving urge to relieve pain no matter what it costs him. Scott doesn't resist. I'm not sure he even knows it's anything more than a massage. This week has been especially bad. The beatings brought up some nasty memories." She sighed. "He refused to talk to you, even though I thought that'd be the best thing." 

"Would he be more comfortable with a woman? I have several contacts in the community. . ." 

"No. It's the idea he dislikes, not just you." Jean rubbed her temples. "Logan gets him to talk, that's how I found out what was going on." 

"What sort of memories?" Charles probed. 

"They used to beat him because of his eyes." 

"Who are 'they'?" 

"Kids. Teenagers. Adults. Mutant haters. There was even a back-woods preacher who thought that if he didn't try to beat the devil out of him, Diablo would kill him." 

Charles felt faintly ill. Of all the evil things he knew about. The one that always caught him off-guard was cruelty to children. "How old was he?" 

"He was on the streets at four or five." 

"Dear God," he whispered. "Who would leave a child that young?" 

"He ran away from something worse, but he can't remember it. What do you know about repressed memories?" 

Xavier considered. "That's a difficult question. There's been a lot of hue and cry about whether or not they actually exist. Perhaps he was simply too young to remember things clearly." 

"He does remember. I've touched the edge of those memories myself. He even had one come back to him." 

"Then perhaps it's time for him to deal with those memories. His mind may finally consider him safe enough or stable enough to deal with his past. Or maybe the coma brought his memories to light." 

"I suppose that could be it. Maybe Logan will get more information out of him." 

"We can hope." 

**** 

"Bobby, sugah, give me the remote before I shove it up your. . . nose." 

Bobby smirked at Rogue. "I don't have the remote." 

Rogue turned to Bishop, eyes wide. "No, not you too. Are all men like this?" she asked the heavens as Bishop continued to sift through the channels. 

"Non, not all," Remy answered, plucking the remote from Bishop's fingers. "Some men are blind." 

"I should beat you, Swamp Rat. 

Remy pouted in her direction. 

"Give me the remote and no one gets hurt." 

Gambit ignored her, settling on the opening scene of Baywatch, then flipping through the rest of the stations. 

"This means war." 

Remy savored the soft honey-drawl for a moment, then responded. "Go 'way, girl, y' bother me." 

The Mississipian's jaw dropped. Bobby laughed. Rogue pointed at him. "Don't go nowhere, Bobby, Yahr next." She grabbed for the remote. Remy evaded her by rolling off the couch. He pitched the remote to Bishop as she caught him around the waist. Bishop continued to channel surf, face impassive, though his eyes were twinkling with unusual mirth. Bobby shook his head as Rogue turned her attention to Bishop. 

"Children." Jean's voice was a perfected den mother chide. Everyone in the room froze and looked towards her. "Rough-housing in the Danger Room only." 

Remy gave her a lazy salute, then reclaimed his place on the sofa. Rogue rolled her eyes. "We ain't all got TK, girl. Get the remote and we'll be just fine." 

"Is there something you wanted to watch?" Bishop offered. 

"One program all the way through." 

"Po' femme, she can only watch one program at a time." 

"Remy, I want to ask you about my closet," Jean stated. 

"What 'bout, chere?" 

"Half of my clothes seem to be missing." 

"Weird. What's missin'?" 

"My blue dress with the white collar. My white cardigan. At least four pairs of pants." 

"Oh. Y'r nun cloths an' your nineteen-ninety retro look. I don't see the problem, long as that bolero jacket's gone too." 

"Scott gave me that!" 

"One, Scott's color-blind so he don't notice that y'r hair clashes wit' that shade of pink. Two, he dresses like a LL Bean catalog. Y' really gonna trust his judgment?" 

Jean flushed, eyes sparking. "That's not the point." 

"Y' t'ink Scotty'll be offended if y' don' wear it?" 

"No. He doesn't care, but it's *my* closet and *someone* went in and cleaned it out." 

"And y' ain't never done that t' Scott or Logan?" 

"Well, occasionally, but I warned them." 

Remy raised his brows. 

"This discussion isn't over," she told him, now aware of the intent interest of the rest of the room. 

"Y' sure 'bout that?" 

"Very sure." 

"I don' t'ink y' are." 

"Why?" she challenged. 

"Right now, it's a draw. We keep goin' y' gonna lose. Simple." 

"I don't lose arguments." 

"Against pussy-whipped homes, mebbe. Sorry, chere, I don' play like dat. Y' want a bitch-fight, I'm f' it." 

"Why you. . ." 

"Don' finish that sentence, chere, y' don' like lookin' in the mirror dat much." 

Jean shook her finger. "We'll talk later." Shc left the room. 

"Meow, hiss, hiss." Rogue made claw-marks in the air. Remy polished his nails against his shirt. Bobby grinned. 

"You need to teach me how to win a against a girl in a fight." 

"It's simple, cher. Men are too nice. Ain't no rules when fightin' a femme. Least not rules like we got." 

Rogue's brows lifted. "Oh?" 

Gambit shook his head. "Y' fight like one of the boys, chere," he informed her. "'cept f' runnin' hot an' cold. I'm gonna work out some. Y' come wit', pup?" 

"Yes." Bishop left with Gambit right behind him. 

**** 

Logan was attempting to meditate, but Scott was staring at him. Well, maybe. He could never be sure what Scott was looking at from behind his shades, but it felt as if there were eyes on him. The worst part was the knowledge that his lover wasn't doing it to annoy him. No, Slim was just thinking and taking his own sweet time about coming to a conclusion. 

"Do you think we're pushing him too hard?" 

Logan blinked. "Gumbo?" 

"Yeah." 

The Canadian knew Scott was tired then. He only developed a New York accent when he was tired or upset. Of course, God help the person who pointed it out. "I don't know." 

"Well, if you don't know, then I'm fucked. I can't figure him out. He pushes with one hand while holding on so tightly with the other that I'm afraid he's going to hurt something. And I have the urge to hold him too tightly so he knows it's okay and the fear goes away. But I'm sure I'd get a fist to the gut and a sharp gun that'd cut me up into little pieces." 

"Oh, Darlin'," Logan sighed, then joined Scott on the couch. The younger man curled up on him, head settled in the hollow between Logan's shoulder and neck, legs straddling his lap. "I ferget sometimes, kiddo." 

"Foget?" 

"That yer Scott not Cyke." 

"That I'm a quivering piece of indecisive, insecure jelly?" 

Logan snorted. "With a mouth like a drunk sailor when you get goin', but no, just that yer human; that things hurt ya so deep. Gumbo ain't tryin' to hurt you, but he ain't ever had a normal relationship. He don't know how to react to ya. He ain't Jean. He ain't me. Hell, no matter what we say, he ain't you either. He's scared, Scotty. He's scared that those crowds'll turn on him, or you, or Storm. He's been in the middle of that before and he's freaking out because his powers'll go haywire and he thinks he'll hurt people. Innocents." 

"Mob members aren't innocent." Scott mumbled into the soft flannel of Logan's shirt. He closed his eyes for just a minute. 

"Don't matter. He's just scared, sweetheart. It'll work out." 

Scott's breathing slowed. Logan chuckled softly to himself as he realized the field leader was asleep. 

**** 

Remy was curled up in his favorite spot - the roof, right next to the turret that let him look across the back lawn when he was enfolded in warm soft arms that smelled of cinnamon and roses. He smiled and leaned back into Storm's embrace. They stayed like that for a long moment, soaking in each other's presence. 

"My dearest brother, what is wrong?" 

"Nothin'." 

Storm moved to sit next to him. "Since I know that is not true, shall we try again? What has you curled up outside my skylight, brother?" 

Remy snorted. "Stubborn femme." 

"I learned from the best. I will have an answer, padnat." 

"Jus' memories, petite." 

They were silent for a moment. "Remy, I have shared the darkest torments of my soul with you. You've never flinched away from my demons. Do you believe that I would truly flinch from yours?" 

"Ro-Ro, I ain't one for talkin' 'bout myself. Y' know that." 

"Remy." Storm's voice grew harder. "I will have a real answer." 

"Or what?" 

"I'll zap Logan and tell him that it was at your request." 

Gambit tried not to grin, but he couldn't manage it. The grin snuck onto his face while the near-hysterical laughter bubbled out of his chest. When he wound down, Storm was still there in all of her regal splendor. She pushed his shades up so that she could see his eyes. "Why are you outside my skylight tonight, brother?" 

"The crowds. All that hate. It ain't them. It ain't who those folks really are. Y' meet dem on the streets mebbe they don' like y'. Mebbe they hate y' even. But that level of violent hate ain't normal. It's like there's somet'in' outside of dem that's pushin' them beyond their normal self. An' it scares m', chere. It scares m' down t' m' bones because that evil been after m' before for not other reason than I got weird eyes. And when we're out figthin' them I wanna hurt them. I want t' kill 'em all and I don' want t'. But there's this lil' voice in m' head that screams at m' t' show them real power, real fear. Make them understand what they fear, what they hate ain't dangerous unless provoked. An' God help m', padnat, but they deserve it. They deserve t' feel all the fear an' pain an' hate t'rown back in their faces." Remy pulled his knees to his chin. "An' mebbe I do it someday. Mebbe I really am one of Satan's chilen like they say." 

Storm pulled him close. "If you were evil, Remy, you would never have saved my life. You would not fear to hurt people. You see that demon's beacon and turn away. I have no fear that you will choose that path. I trust you with all my heart and soul, as you trusted me when I was just a child. If you are a demon-child, then you are a great disappointment." 

**** 

Jean was in her "office" which doubled as a work-room for refurbishing the furniture after the many mishaps of Institute life. She lost herself in the soft, familiar smells of wood and oil as she stained the wainscoting for the new entry from the stables. The exhaust fans evacuated most of the fumes from the stain, but the comforting smell remained. She realized she was humming as she worked and smiled. 

"I thought I'd find you here," Warren said from the open doorway. 

"Hi, War." 

"Can I come in?" 

"Sure." Jean smiled at him. He returned it a little shyly. He straddled her desk chair, so that his wings hung free. Unlike Scott, however, Warren didn't rest his chin on top of his arms as they rested across the back of the chair. Rather, he propped his head on one hand while the other rested on his knee -- tapping with nervous energy. "What's wrong, Wings?" 

"I'm not sure, Red. It's just. . ." he sighed. "You know the professor basically told me to make nice with Gambit, right?" 

She nodded, then shifted to a new section of wood. 

"Well, that part's not too hard. Not like I though tit would be. I don't like him, but it's not that I ever hated *him*." Warren shook his head. "But that's not the point. What I've found is that I never resolved things with Slim.' 

Jean looked up, brows up. "Slim? But you're best friends." 

"We weren't always. And I don't know if we are now. Beofre you came, we weren't. I didn't want to work with him. He was this cold, callous street asshole who thought I was a 'poor little rich-boy fuck-hole' I think was his actual phrase." 

"What changed?" 

"He did, I think." 

"So what's bringing all this up? Remy?" 

"Yes and no. Shit. I'm confused, Red. How could I accept Scott, but not Gambit?" 

"Remy pushes your buttons." 

"You *really* have no clue what Scott was like. He makes Rogue's PMS look like a sunny walk in the park." 

"Made." 

Warren rolled his eyes. "Makes. He just doesn't talk like a drunk frat boy anymore." He changed position so that his hands were hanging free over the back of the chair. "But every time I try to focus on my. . . relationship with Gambit I end up thinking about Scott." 

Jean finished the piece and put away her tools while she thought. Warren didn't say anything. "Are you still mad at me for choosing him?" 

Warren opened his mouth to protest that he'd never been mad at her, but he stopped the lie before it could come out. "Yes." 

She smiled to herself. "And you won't let yourself be mad at Scott or me, so. . ." 

"Gambit was available and enough like both of you to let it out at. And now I know about his fucking Marauder past, but that lowered my anger." His wings twitched with a metallic clink. "It should have been the other way." 

"Why?" 

"Because he led them into those tunnels. I lost my wings because of it." 

"Why didn't it, Warren?" 

His eyes widened as he figured out a piece of it. "Because, oh shit, shit, shit. He wasn't one of the ones that hurt me. I felt my pain in those memories. He knows exactly how much I was hurt. He feels my pain still and that's more than enough punishment." 

"And?" she prompted after a minute of silence. 

"And it means he's not Scott." 

"You saw Remy not his attitude." 

"But I never hated Scott!" 

"You didn't?" 

"No, I had Candi." 

"And she's not here. And even at the wedding you were mad at us." 

"No, I was disappointed. I always loved you, Red." 

"Are you mad because we invited Logan to join us?" Jean perched on her work-table. 

"A blind man could see Logan adores both of you. All three of you to be honest. No, I wanted you for myself. Not to share." 

Jean let the evasion go and focused on the other issue. "I'm not a possession." She thought she'd gotten to the boys long ago about that. 

"I know, but I wanted you to be my girl. I've always gotten what I wanted. You are the only girl to ever choose someone else over me." 

"And I chose your best friend." 

Warren's wings twitched again. "And you chose my best friend. You took him away by dying. Then, you came back and took him away again. I hate you for that. I hate the Phoenix for hurting him so badly and I hate you for taking him away. But I still cherish you. I don't love you like I did. And I don't hate you really. I'm so fucked up, Red. I didn't even realize it. I. . . Thank you for listening to me. I have a lot to think about." 

"Warren?" 

"Yes?" He looked up at her. 

"Have you told Scott any of this?" 

"I didn't even know any of it until we started talking. This emotional crap isn't something I can talk to Slim about." 

"You'd be surprised. I think he needs to hear it." 

"That's the last thing he needs from me. Thanks, Jeannie." 

"You're welcome." 

**** 

"I didn't mean to drool on you," Scott said. "What time is it?" 

"Bed time. You slept through dinner." 

"Why didn't you wake me up?" 

Logan shrugged. With his arms around Scott's waist the action turned into a hug. "It was new. You ain't fallen asleep in my lap before. Turns out I like it." 

Scott nuzzled Logan's throat. "I feel that." Logan's cock was hard behind his jeans. 

"Yer such a tease, boy." 

Scott smirked at him and got up. "Where are the night-owls?" 

//We're walking home now. I swear, I'm going to get a homing beacon for our thief.// 

Logan laughed. "That answers that." 

Gambit opened the front door with a flourish. Jean giggled when he bowed her inside. "You're in a mood, aren't you, Sweetie?" 

Remy blinked innocently at her. "I don' know what y' mean, chere. It's just the beauty of y'r smile turnin' m' mind t' visions of queens." 

"Obviously not the same queens I know," Scott said. "Of course, with a tighter tee-shirt and a couple of holes. . ." 

Jean kissed Scott. She pulled back when she was sure the rest of the sentence had disappeared. "Shut up, honey." 

"Where's the licorice, woman?" Scott patted the pockets of her coat. 

"Hey! My candy! Back off, Slim." 

Remy flopped onto the couch. "Hey, kiddo." 

"Hey, Logan. Looks like y' were doin' somet'in' interestin'." Remy traced the outline of the cock with a finger. 

"Yeah, but Slim's decided he wants somethin' sweet so we ain't gonna. . ." Logan turned at the sound of his name. 

"No fair. Make her stop, Logan." 

"Don't whine, Scotty." Jean held the candy up near the ceiling with a thought. 

"Please?" 

"Later." 

Scott sighed. He reached over the back of the couch to tug the Cajun's ponytail. Then, he leaned over to nuzzle at Logan's throat. "She's being mean to me again." 

"Oh?" 

"She won't let me have any licorice." 

"Poor baby." 

Remy hid his laughter. He'd never seen Cyke act out quite so outrageously. 

"It's my candy," Jean insisted. 

"But you don't like it," the Alaskan protested. 

"That's not the point. I'm the one who went out and got it, so it's mine." 

"What's mine is yours and yours is mine. We're married." 

Jean shook her head. "Maybe if you're nice." 

"I'm always nice to you." Scott tousled their thief's bangs. Remy turned into the touch like a cat. "I even brush your hair for you." 

"That's a fetish. It doesn't count." 

"It is *not* a fetish. Blindfolds are a fetish. Brushing your hair is an expression of love, or maybe a meditation. You just don't love me anymore, that's why you won't give me any of the candy you hate." 

"Maybe I just don't want to taste it when I kiss you." 

"Logan tastes like licorice." 

"No he don'." Remy looked up at Scott. "*You* taste like licorice. Logan tastes like autumn." 

Logan shrugged. "I used to suck on the stuff so he'd kiss me." 

"What?" Jean and Scott chorused. 

"Boy was so skittish, I thought he needed somethin' soothin' to get him over his fear. I was right." Logan kissed the inside of Scott's wrist, retaining his grip so he could do a further exploration of the hand with lips and tongue. 

"Kiss me then, so I know what you taste like." 

"If ya go on upstairs I'll kiss ya plenty." 

"Promise?" 

"Promise." 

"Okay. You coming, brat?" 

Remy stretched. "Mebbe. Might nap awhile here." 

"Remy," Jean said. He looked at her with wide, little-boy eyes. "You can help me hide the licorice someplace interesting. Go on up, boys." 

Logan smirked. "And I was worryin' about Slim and Gumbo spendin' too much time together." 

Scott tugged on Logan's arm. They almost made it to the bedroom before Scott started unbuttoning Logan's shirt. 

Remy settled into the pre-warmed corner of the couch a content smile curling up his lips. "Not in the mood?" Jean asked. 

Remy shrugged. "Could be convinced." 

"Oh?" Jean shook the bag of candy as she thought. "How?" 

"Mebbe if'n y' kissed m' some I'd be more willin'. Awful comfy right here." 

"I'll have to make it a little less comfy and a lot more stimulating. We'll miss the show if we stay down here." 

"Oh, y' don' have t' stay. Remy's a big boy. He can stay up all alone." He pouted a little. 

Jean shook her head. "Oh, no, sweetie, that would never do. You'd get cold and we both know you prefer to be hot." She kissed him firmly as she leaned over the couch. Remy pulled her over the back of the couch and she landed on him with a startled yip and a breathless laugh. "Brat." He smirked at her. He relieved her of the small white bag of candy. 

"Now, why y' bein' mean t' Scotty, an' what exactly does 'interestin' mean?" 

"He's a bigger brat than you are. And interesting all depends on you." 

Remy raised his brows. He ran a finger up her arm to the side of her face. He stroked there for a moment in thought. "Let's go up." 

"I thought you'd see things my way. Let's go see what they're up to?" 

"Well, I can tell y' at least two t'ings that are up. How'd they ever go so long wit'out?" 

"If I knew that I'd know all of Scott's fears." 

When they made it upstairs, Logan and Scott were staring at each other. Logan was toying with a silk scarf. Scott had his arms crossed. "And just what are you going to do with that?" 

Logan's grin grew. "Guess." 

"But I want to see." 

Remy snickered. "Ain't y' the one who been tryin' t' get me t' try that?" 

"Maybe." Scott tilted his head as he looked at Logan. "But he's up to something and I'm not sure if I trust him." 

"You'll like it, honey," Jean informed him. She batted her lashes. "And so will I." 

"Oh?" Scott perked up. Logan laughed aloud. "Will I?" 

"Yes. You'll even get candy." 

"Promises. Promises." 

"You know I'm good for it," Jean answered. 

Logan brushed his fingers up Scott's cheeks towards his glasses. "Close 'em," was the last warning before Logan removed the standard red shades. 

"You like to live dangerously," Scott griped. He reached for his glassed, but Logan set them on the night table with a "tink" as his other hand caught Scott's. The silk scarf lay coiled on their laps. 

"I ain't worried. You ain't gonna hurt me." 

"Don't be so sure of that." Scott growled. "One of these days you're not going to wait and I'm going to put you through the fucking wall, if I don't manage to crush your fucking skeleton." 

Logan snorted. "Not gonna happen, Slim. Now, be still." 

Scott's lips compressed into a small line. Remy couldn't tell if he were truly angry or not. The way he didn't move anywhere but into Logan's touch made him think not. Jean, on the other hand, had seen this routine before and was busy getting out of her clothes to join them. She and Logan knew exactly where this little game would head. She smiled to herself. She winked at Logan when he glanced over at her. She nodded her head in the Cajun's direction. Remy was leaning against the wall, just watching. Logan fixed the knot carefully. "How's that feel?" he asked quietly. 

"Fine." Scott sighed and leaned forward, resting his forehead on Logan's shoulder. Logan massaged the tight muscles on the back of Scott's neck. He lifted Scott's chin for a quiet, careful kiss, full of tenderness and protection. Here, now, Scott was only in danger of pleasure, but his life had taught him to fear that just as strongly as anything else. Jean crooked a finger at Remy. 

"Come here, sweetie. We're going to give Scotty a treat." She winked. "Time to hide some of that candy." 

"Y' t'ink?" Remy looked down at her. He took one of the pink and black circles from the bag. He licked the back of it and ran it down her stomach to rest in her belly button. Jean licked her lips as he added a candy to each nipple, carefully wetting the area so they'd stick. Scott listened to the change in his wife's breathing and knew that she was, for once, be topped at her own game. Remy considered placement while Jean remained very still. She found herself holding her breath and forced herself to let it go. A square ended up on her forehead like a caste mark. He place four more candies on her body, then put one between her lips. Logan meanwhile had been running his fingers over Scott's body, sensitizing him to touch and bringing up a flood of blood. Scott licked his lips. Logan didn't bother kissing him there, but rather put a dark mark on his shoulder blade with his mouth and teeth. 

"Yer overdressed, Darlin'," Logan growled at the Cajun. "Lemme help ya with that." 

"Non, merci. I'm fine, cher." Remy's smile was lazy and complacent. "I'm plannin' on watchin'." 

Logan's brows rose as Remy settled himself on the blanket chest at the foot of the bed. The Cajun folded up his hands under his chin to rest on the footboard. He purposefully opened his shields and was almost overwhelmed by the swirl of conflicting emotions. He closed his eyes to gain some focus and started to pick out the individual threads of his lovers' emotions. Logan cocked his head to the side, studying the little frown of concentration. Then, he kissed Scott once more and turned him towards Jean. Jean caught Scott's hand and kissed it. 

Remy opened his eyes. This was more real, more graphic, and more heartwarming than he'd ever expected. The trust that flowed between the three of them, and by sheer consent him, floored him. Scott's fear was tempered by his unshakable trust in Jean and Logan's intentions. "Now, to be fair we're gonna have to make Jeannie keep her hands to herself. Don't want her helpin' ya to cheat," Logan stated. He suited words to actions and tied Jean's hands to the headboard. She laughed as he tickled down her ribs. "That's better." Scott was laughing now, the fear receding. Remy was glad to see it replaced with an almost childlike curiosity. He felt the smile curling up his lips and relaxed further. He had to keep himself separate from the emotions, just observe them. He had to know if he was happy here, or if he was merely reflecting what this happy trio wanted to see. 

Logan stroked down Scott's back. He pinched his ass. 

"Hey!" 

"Time fer you to find some treasure." 

"Will you tell me when I get hot?" 

"Ya already are." 

Scott shook his head. "Now where should I start?" He rested a hand on Jean's knee, then bent to kiss it. Logan kissed the back of Scott's knee. Jean smiled when she realized what Logan was up to. Scott proceeded to lick his way up her thigh as Logan mirrored his movements. Scott sighed into the crease of Jean's thigh. He skirted the very interesting area just there and she moaned. 

"Scott. . ." 

He ignored her, moving up to dip into her bellybutton, something that always seemed to make her writhe. He was rewarded with a sweet treat and the smile on his face was cherubic. Logan grinned. He turned Scott's face towards him and kissed him as a second reward. The sight of two of her lovers kissing was enough to make Jean squirm. She needed attention. She looked pleadingly towards Remy, but he was clearly and distinctly ignoring her needs by watching the boys kiss. Not that she could blame him for it. Scott shared the candy with Logan. Logan broke the kiss off reluctantly at Jean's moan. Scott turned his attention back to her. He licked up the center of her body, between her breasts just to her throat. He lapped at the sweat there, then bit gently on the side of her neck. She shuddered with the rise of her desire. He moved down her body to her left breast and suckled at it, receiving his next treat. Logan was busy leaving a deep mark on Scott's shoulder. Jean arched up into Scott's mouth. He smiled against her skin, then made his way across her body to her other nipple. "Christ, Slim, you're driving me crazy." 

Scott nipped at the base of her breast, then moved to the nipple. He felt the second bruise forming on his shoulder as he sucked and taunted the nipple into a hard little pebble. "Scotty, please, more, I can't take this." 

"This was your idea," Scott reminded, a little breathlessly. Scott's cock was hard and Logan was now playing with his nipples. He could feel Logan's erection pressing against the crack of his ass. 

"Keep goin', Scotty," Logan urged. She's got more for you." 

Scott smiled. 

"Oh, God," Jean breathed. Scott started to work his way down her body. He found the candy hidden in the crease where her thigh joined her groin. He licked carefully to make sure he'd gotten all traces of the candy off of her skin. He checked the other side and sure enough, there was more to do. Jean writhed, begging wordlessly for more contact, but she had set up the game, the consequences were her problem. 

Logan nodded towards to night-stand and Remy obliged by getting him the supplies he needed. Then, the thief settled back into his chosen spot to watch things from a very up-close and personal angle. All thoughts of making this an experiment had disappeared. And that was in itself one of the answers he'd been looking for. It wasn't just them feeling good. He was already caught up too far to go back. He just hoped they wouldn't get tired of him and throw him away when he stopped being young and pretty. He shook of the mild melancholy. And he was glad he did because he got to watch Logan preparing Scott while Scott lapped and thrust his tongue into Jean's slit in the same rhythm. He caught his breath. He didn't know that his eyes were so dilated that there was nearly no red left in them, all he knew was that Scott's hips were pushing back, forcing deeper contact with Logan's fingers, and Jean's hips were thrusting up, begging for Scott's cock to take the place of his tongue. 

Logan slid into his lover, pausing to let him adjust. Scott slid into the slippery wetness of Jean's body, mouth descending onto hers like a hungry tiger. He drove his tongue into her mouth, letting Logan control his thrusting into her lower body. He could feel her body trembling under his as the final stimulation started her climax. Scott moved between the two extremes of fucking and being fucked with the intent focus of a monk at meditation. Logan was starting to speed up now, thrusting harder. Jean shivered, body clenching as she crested. 

The intense pressure of Scott pressing into her mouth and groin at the same time drove Jean up and over the edge of her orgasm. She trembled and shook with the waves of nerve endings cascading their chorus of pleasure. Her eyes closed, her body stiffened and arched with unthinking instinct. She felt Scott come inside of her, the familiar presence of his body beginning to make her mind function wearily. She heard Logan grunt as he froze inside her husband's body, his own release making him bite into Scott's shoulder, drawing blood. 

Logan's eyes grew heavy. He slowly disconnected from his lovers. He licked his lips, still tasting the sweetness of his mate's blood on them. He curled up next to them, nose flaring to take in the combination of scents that he marked as 'mates' somewhere deep in his heart. They were aroused, completed. He drifted towards sleep. Scott carefully shifted off of Jean's boneless body. He felt a gentle touch on his arm and a finger across his lips. He licked the finger and heard a muffled snort. Then, tiny licks were lapping up the blood on his shoulder. They were followed by the cold sting of peroxide and a bandage. He didn't bother to find his sleeping goggles. He simply smiled and snuggled down into the pillows. 

Remy carefully untied Jean's wrists, not that she seemed inclined to move. He kissed her forehead, carrying the last piece of licorice away with his tongue. He was about to move away when Scott's hand caught his shoulder and pulled him close for a kiss. "Mine," Scott stated quietly. And he wasn't talking about the candy. 

FINIS 


End file.
